


Guard Dog

by Abiggaynerd



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 04:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16485578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abiggaynerd/pseuds/Abiggaynerd
Summary: Wilson stayed with Maxwell in the throne room. Someone else reaches the end of adventure mode.





	Guard Dog

“Sweetheart, can you come here please?”

Wilson woke out of his blank trance to turn to Maxwell, sitting on his throne. Wilson blinked, trying to process the request. Maxwell waited patiently.

Wilson’s brain finally caught up to him, and Wilson ambled over, slid to his knees, and rested his head on Maxwell’s lap.

He couldn’t sit on Maxwell’s lap. Maxwell’s legs were too weak and atrophied to carry any real weight, and though Wilson was much smaller than Maxwell, he was still heavy. But a head was fine.

Maxwell’s hand came down to stroke his hair, and Wilson relaxed fully into it, letting his eyes droop. Wilson sighed contentedly, and he felt Maxwell relax too.

There was never anything much to do in the throne room. 

They had sex, occasionally, but only on very, very good days. Days when they had the luxury to feel boredom, or even want, instead of the deep exhaustion that was etched into their very souls. 

Wilson didn’t do much anymore. He’d exercise Chester, the poor thing constantly asleep due to the constant dark, and he’d cook when he was hungry, but... Maxwell would eve spawn materials in for Wilson to experiment on, invent with, but even that was hard for Wilson to focus on after a while. 

Wilson found himself staring into space, into the dark nothingness that surrounded them, almost constantly. He could tell it worried Maxwell to no end, though he didn’t say it. Maxwell would call out to Wilson, and Wilson would sit by him and bask in the comforting human contact until he felt like he was in his own head again. Wilson appreciated it, and more than that, he needed it. It was the only thing that kept him sane in this dark, dark world. He suspected Maxwell needed it too. They never talked about it. 

Wilson traced patterns into Maxwell’s leg lazily. Occasionally they watched the other survivors, and that at least was somewhat interesting, even if it could be... somewhat gory. But today they were not, and Wilson was grateful, because his mind was mush.

He pressed into Maxwell’s hand as it came onto his head again, and Maxwell smiled faintly.

Wilson was half asleep, high off the bliss of being petted, when Maxwell tensed. Wilson froze, clinging to Maxwell’s leg.

“Maxwell?”

Maxwell opened and closed his mouth, finally giving Wilson a sardonic smile.

“It appears we have a guest.”

As he said that, Wilson could hear footsteps coming closer. In a moment, the lights leading the way to Maxwell lit up, and they could see the person clearly. 

Maxwell sighed. “Welcome to the end of the line.”

The person looked at him incredulously, then at Wilson.

“His name is Wilson. He’s like you.” Maxwell paused. “Or rather, he was, once.”

Wilson stared at the newcomer. They stared back.

“You have no business with him, I assure you.”

Silence. The person stared back at Maxwell.

“Like I said, this is the end of the line. You can either stay here, or put the key in the keyhole.” Maxwell sighed. “I can’t stop you, either way.”

Wilson tensed.

The person looked from Maxwell, to the keyhole, to the rod in their hand, and made up their mind. They stepped towards the keyhole and lifted the rod to put it in. 

Maxwell sighed and closed his eyes.

“NO!”

Before Wilson knew what he was doing, he had pounced on the person. He ripped the divining rod from the person’s hands and began beating them with it. He screamed furiously.

“You don’t know what it’s LIKE- I WON’T BE ALONE AGAIN- I CAN’T-“ 

By the time he came back to himself, the person was dead under his hands. 

He stared at the body, standing up and backing away slowly. His hands were covered in blood. 

He vomited his last meal onto the floor. 

He had just killed someone. He had killed someone. He had killed someone-

“Sweetheart. Wilson, sweetheart. It’s okay. It’s okay, sweetheart, look at me-“

Wilson looked to Maxwell. He was shaking terribly. There was blood on his HANDS-

Maxwell opened his arms, and Wilson fell into them. He couldn’t stop shivering. Maxwell was cooing comforting nonsense at him, and he was shushing him. Why was he shushing him?

He was sobbing, he realized blearily, and getting snot and tears all over Maxwell. Snot and tears and b-blood-

He started crying harder. 

“Look, Wilson, it’s fine, they woke up in front of the portal, see? It wasn’t murder, not really, they’re fine. Look, Wilson.”

Wilson looked through his tears at the image Maxwell showed him, and he was right- the person was fine. He took a deep breath, and quieted for a moment, before seeing the body again, right next to the throne, making a big puddle of blood on the floor. 

Maxwell noticed the distress. 

“Push it into the dark, sweetheart, Charlie will eat it.”

Wilson nodded, and stood on shaky legs. He pushed the body with his legs into the dark- he wouldn’t touch it with his hands again, he couldn’t. He walked back to Maxwell, ignoring the blood on the floor, ignoring the sick metallic scent. He closed his eyes tightly shut. Maxwell stroked his hair again, like before, and Wilson whimpered and clutched at Maxwell tightly. 

He had- he had killed someone. He had murdered someone in cold blood, with his own two hands- was he even human anymore? Had he not been human for a long time?

He was still shaking with adrenaline. Exhaustion was better than this. So much better than this. 

“Maxwell,” Wilson warbled, small and lost. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Maxwell cooed. “You’re alright.”

But he wasn’t, and the worst part wasn’t even that he had killed someone. 

The worst thing was that he didn’t regret it. 

No- that wasn’t the it either.

The worst thing was he would do it again. He’d do it again and again and again, if someone were to try to put the key in the lock again.

What kind of monster was he? 

“Shh, sweetheart.” Maxwell petted Wilson’s hair, and Wilson let himself be soothed by soft nothings and the simple contact.


End file.
